


Insecurity

by OpticalCrown



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 22:25:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13820703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpticalCrown/pseuds/OpticalCrown
Summary: Haggar has trapped them all in their own mental prisons. With a bit of help, they all crawl out, but that's only the beginning of everything for Lance.Or maybe it's not a beginning or an end.Maybe it's just something, anything for him.





	Insecurity

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this one-shot ages ago, and finally decided to post it.

It’s definitely an uncomfortable feeling to just… see yourself, in person and unaltered.

Lance takes a good minute to stare down his doppelganger, before he softly breathes out. His eyes look a bit harder than he expects, and his hair is longer now, he realizes. The tiny scar on his face that he’s so used to seeing reversed in the mirror is now facing him properly.

“You’re me,” he says, his voice oddly calm.

“Yes, I am.”

They’re both standing in darkness, yet Lance can see Not-Lance perfectly. He walks over, arms crossed.

“Is this one of Haggar’s tricks? I just remember fainting.”

Not-Lance smirks, and Lance feels some disappointment curdle in his stomach. It turns out that a smirk doesn’t look flattering on him at all, but before he has time to process this shattering revelation, Not-Lance starts talking again.

“Of course it’s a trick by her. An idiot as always, huh?”

Something flashes behind Lance’s eyes, and he laughs and smiles with his twin.

“Of course – couldn’t say it better myself! Literally!”

“Damn, it sucks being the normal one! Pidge and Hunk are goddamn geniuses, Keith’s the best pilot the Garrison’s ever seen, and Shiro – hell, we don’t even have time to talk about how awesome Shiro is!” the doppelganger says with a chuckle, and by now he’s sitting with Lance on whatever is considered the ground in this darkness.

“I am expendable,” Not-Lance casually says, waiting for Lance to finish for him.

“-And that’s what makes me valuable.”

“I’m a terrible person, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Lance says, “because I am so selfish.”

“I don’t care about myself as much as I should, even though that would make people around me so sad.”

“But feeling sad hurts – thinking hurts, so this is alright.”

“Yes, haha!”

A sound like rushing water mixed in with wind blowing through treetops rustles behind Lance, and he doesn’t even bother to stand up, leaning backwards to stare at Haggar. It looks like she’s smiling from his position, and she snarls at him, looking ready to kill.

“Is this what’s happening to everyone else?” he asks, placidly.

“What even are you?”

“I’m human. Lance the Very Normal Human.”

“No, no, you should be drowning in despair-!”

“That sounds like it would hurt.”

Lance crawls to his feel as Haggar stares in shock.

“I dunno if it’s your magic or anything, but I feel _extra_ weird in this place. I need to go help my friends, so tell me where they are.”

Without even wasting a minute he steps forwards and sucker punches Haggar.

Or at least, he tries to.

His fist catches in a layer of fabric, which in turn also vanishes into nothingness. Waves roll and kick about in his head, and he groans softly and holds his head. Lance peers to his left through squinted eyes, deafened by the sound of water and nearly blinded by pain. Not-Lance smiles, flashes a thumbs up, and disintegrates into a swathe of particles that rearrange into a nostalgic door. At the same time, his migraine stops.

The door used to be pure white at some point, but now it’s cream-colored and the paint is chipped. Old, vintage details carved into the wood decorate the edges, and the brass knob is charmingly antique, with a mottled patina. It’s the door to his home; his real home back on Earth that’s within walking distance to the beach and occupied by a family that makes it feel just a tad bit too cozy for comfort.

“After this is all over, maybe I should thank Haggar, actually,” Lance jokes to himself, as he turns the knob and opens the door to hell.

 

Hunk kneels in front of all of their corpses, bawling and desperately shaking their bloodied bodies, especially Lance’s, which is mutilated beyond recognition. The only reason he recognizes it as himself is from the shreds of blue that aren’t stained with crusted and browned blood. Hunk really is the best friend anyone could ever have.

“Hey bud! Hunk, over here!”

Hunk spins around in less than a second, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“Lance?”

“Uh, it’s me, haha.”

In a split second Hunk has him wrapped up in a crushing hug, and he bawling into Lance’s chest now instead, and Lance merely rests his head on Hunk’s soft shoulder, patting his friend on the back.

“Oh man, you really care about us, don’t you?” Lance asks, feeling Hunk’s sobs reverberate throughout his body.

“It’s just so scary sometimes! Something could happen and-!”

“Do you trust us? Do you trust yourself?”

“Huh?”

“Buddy, you’re one of the toughest, smartest people I know. Not to mention Shiro and Pidge and Keith are all pretty crazy strong too! We can protect ourselves, and if we can’t, then I’m definitely sure you’d be able to think of something,” he babbles, hoping there’s something there that’ll help his friend feel better.

Hunk lets go and stands back, rubbing at his eyes.

“You… You really think so?”

“Of course I do. You’re my best friend. Also, you’re super cool too, y’know? You’ve done enough awesome stuff by now to know how cool you are, and I bet it’s only ‘cause of Haggar’s magic that you’re all out of it.”

Hunk’s eyes narrow, and behind him, the bodies shimmer in and out of existence.

“Wait… You… Are you the real Lance? You’re not just a figment of my imagination?”

“Hm? Wait, huh?! Why were you crying then if you knew it was all fake?!”

“No, no! I just realized it was fake, I just did! Oh man, you _are_ real!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His friend smiles sheepishly and fidgets with his hands.

“I dunno, you just – you look a bit sad compared to normal.”

“Sad? It’s just this creepy place that Haggar’s got going on! Chill out and wake up!”

Lance laughs and jokingly pinches Hunk on the cheek. To Lance’s shock, Hunk yelps and vanishes from the blackness. He stares at the empty space in shock, and watches as the leftover corpses shift into a tidepool, filled with inky water.

“Did… Did he really wake up?”

Of course, there’s no answer in this echo-less darkness

Frowning, he takes a deep breath and dives in.

 

The first thing he hears is screaming.

“Katie! KATIE!”

“Sis’, just run! Don’t worry about us!”

“Matt! Dad! No, don’t touch them! I’m gonna get you guys! Just wait!”

Groaning, Lance stands up, his head feeling stuffy and uncomfortable. When he looks up, there’s a massive glass wall. On his side, he sees Pidge screaming, looking way too tired and ragged for a fourteen year old, and on the other side he sees an older man and a boy that looks almost exactly like Pidge.

“Oh, the Holts… Kereberos,” Lance mutters, his head still foggy. Compared to when he slipped into Hunk’s headspace, he feels a bit more sick.

“Lance! Come over and help!”

“Wha-Ah!”

Pidge grabs him with superhuman strength and drags him over, where she starts whaling on the glass with her Bayard, transforming it into all sort of amazing gadgets and weapons. Her mind really is a cut about them all.

“Pidge, listen to me.”

“Shut up and help!” she snaps, her teeth bared.

To Lance, it looks like the Holts are forever frozen in their moment of capture, by some shadow-y, vaguely Galra-shaped beings. This fog in his head is so annoying.

“Pidge, what does this feel like?”

“Lance, what the hell?! I swear I’m gonna smack you if you don’t start helping!”

“If it’d clear my head then that’d be great, but this all isn’t real. It’s magic by Haggar.”

“Huh?!”

“C’mon Pidge, you’re the genius here – your dad and brother aren’t moving, what the hell even is this glass wall, and I _just_ told you we’re getting messed around with by Haggar.”

Pidge’s movements freeze.

“You. You’re telling the truth, aren’t you? The Lance I know doesn’t act all smart and calm.”

Lance scoffs and clicks his tongue.

“ _Rude_.”

“Lance is hopeless perv who always likes to smile and laugh. He doesn’t have that dead-eyed look, so I must be really out of it if that’s how I’m imagining you,” Pidge grumbles, while Lance rubs his face.

_Dead-eyed?_

“Anyways,” she sighs, “this is a dream, right? Then that means I can do just this.”

She flicks her pointer finger into glass a mile thick and the entire thing shatters. The shadowy figures holding back her family disappear in a puff of smoke, and her brother and father run towards her with open arms, where they hug and laugh, before vanishing. With a sigh, Pidge straightens her back.

“As if it’d be that easy. Still, thanks, imaginary-Lance.”

Lance pouts and crosses his arms.

“You can drop the ‘imaginary’, thank you very much. Besides, you aren’t in this alone, you know? I thought we all agreed to help you find your family ages ago!”

PIdge’s glasses flash, as she jerks up to stare at Lance with a startle.

“Wait, no, it can’t be-!”

“I’m honestly starting to hate this magic more and more – it’s totally messing with you guys!”

She grabs Lance’s shoulders, forcing him to bend down.

“You’re actually the real Lance! How’re you even here?! M-my memory is a bit fuzzy, but Haggar did something! There’s no way she would’ve let you help us out so how-?!”

“Wake up!”

Lance pinches her cheek, and Pidge vanishes with a disgruntled squawk. The broken glass fuses into a vintage-styled car, all pastel blue and full of bulky parts. Suddenly, he feels very lonely, seeing that nostalgic car.

Lance stares blankly, frozen at the sight of the car.

Gingerly, he opens a passenger door. He’s halfway pulled the door open, when he slams it shut. Smirking, he runs to the driver’s door and hops in.

 

It feels like he’s drowning for a solid minute, before he emerges into another space, gasping and coughing. He stumbles for two steps, then collapses to the ground. This sickness… It’s definitely getting worse. Wheezing, he glances up, to see Keith standing in the darkness, alone and battered. Gritting his teeth, Lance keeps on taking deep breaths until he can breathe properly again, gasping as he jogs over. As he does, he notices in the distance that Shiro, Hunk, Pidge, and himself are all walking away, not even peeking back.

“Are you flipping serious?!” he screeches, clamping his hand down onto Keith’s shoulder.

Keith blinks, and looks down at Lance, the hollow look on his face washing off in less than a second.

“Lance?!”

“You really think we’re just gonna up and leave you?! I’ll drink a gallon of numbvil before that ever happens!”

Keith’s eyes are wide and stunned, and his mouth opens and closes like a fish before he manages to eke something out.

“You look pale-,”

“Shut up! Do you really hate us all that much?! You really think-!”

Dizziness drowns Lance once more, and that roaring migraine comes back. His hands slips from Keith’s shoulder, and he cradles his head as breathing suddenly gets a lot harder.

“Lance!”

Keith tries to step in closer, but Lance pouts at him, irritated.

“Just answer me. This is all just Haggar’s magic.”

Realization seems to dawn on Keith, and he pauses for a moment to stare at his surroundings, before snapping to attention.

“Dammit, you’re right! You, are you real or not?”

Lance stares at him blearily, then chuckles and shrugs.

“All up to you, samurai.”

“…Lance?”

His eyes widen, and Lance stares at Keith in shock.

“Whatever, I’m not telling you how to get out until you answer my question.”

“Are you serious?! The other are in danger! Get me out!”

“Hunk and Pidge are already out. I just found you instead.”

“Then where’s Shiro?! You’re so stupid!”

“Answer my question then!”

Lance doesn’t mean to yell so angrily, but it just comes out like that, and Keith looks almost hurt, compared to his usual, brooding self.

“I…er… I don’t want to get separated from everyone. It’s…”

“Lonely?”

Keith nods, scowling and refusing to look at Lance.

“There, I told you. Happy?”

“Good enough.”

He pinches _both_ of Keith’s cheeks for good measure. The boy vanishes, his face caught in a moment of shock, and the vanishing silhouettes shimmer into endless black ocean. Lance loves the ocean, but at night it’s still a bit scary. With a deep breath and a pounding head, he steps off of nothingness and splashes into water so cold he feels like his chest will clench up and crush in itself.

 

Lance barely has any time to fight off the feeling of dying, when he hears the sound of metal clashing together, and flesh being slammed into. He tries to crawl up, but nausea overtakes him and he vomits. How does vomiting even work inside your mind?

“C’mon Lancey-Lance! Get your act together!” he chirps to himself.

He focuses on his body. This is all in his mind. Hell, even this sickness must be just in his mind. He repeats that to himself over and over, until he finally can stand up.

Shiro is getting strangled to death by a doppelganger. It looks like Shiro, but his eyes are completely yellow, and his clothes are different. Shiro struggles and claws at his own arms, but it’s no use.

“Shit! Get away from him!”

Lance tackles the evil Shiro the ground with strength he didn’t know he had, and quickly pulls up Shiro before the other one can get up.

“Shiro, are you alright?!”

“L-Lance? What’re you… How did you get here? This is Haggar’s doing, isn’t it?”

“Oh cool, so you know this isn’t real! Anyways, there’s a trick to getting out, so-!”

“Watch out!”

For a moment, Lance wonders if he’s been shot. Stars burst in front of his eyes, and next thing he knows he’s lying on the ground, dazed and confused.

“Back off!”

Blinking, Lance sits up, to see Shiro fighting against his doppelganger again, and getting his ass kicked no less.

“Um, Shiro…”

“Kinda busy here, Lance!”

“You know this all isn’t real, right?”

“You just got pummeled!”

“But it’s not real, it’s just in my head. Maybe it’s like… kinda like a placebo effect, you know?”

“Lance!”

“…You’re always gonna be our friend, you know?”

And in that moment, the doppelganger seems to fizzle and freeze.

“Who cares what you did while you were that Champion or whatever! You’re the Black Paladin right now! You’re super cool, super strong, an awesome leader, and if anything crazy happens, I know Keith’s always got your back!”

Like an old television screen, the image flickers and becomes more and more unrecognizable, and in that moment, Lance rushes at Shiro, the throbbing in his head refusing to go away.

“Wake up!” he screams, throwing himself into the man.

 

“Ugh… So much for it not being real,” Shiro mutters, as he wakes up to a terrible headache, and an aching pain around his neck.

“Shiro! You’re awake!”

Keith’s looking at him with wide eyes, and Shiro takes a moment to breathe.

“You were actually choking yourself. Kinda impressive actually,” Pidge says to his right, trying to hide her terror with some brevity. “Also you clocked Lance in the head.”

She jerks her thumb back towards Lance’s sleeping form as Hunk uses something to blot at the blood on the boy’s forehead. Shiro winces and writhes over to check, his arms and ankles cuffed. Compared to the other Paladins, they only have bracelets on.

“Oh no, I’ll need to apologize when he wakes up.”

Shiro tries to sit up some more, but Keith holds out his hand.

“You should just stay there for a bit. We tried to stop you, but things were getting scary. You really beat yourself up.”

 

_I know Keith’s always got your back!_

 

The words filter through Shiro’s head, and he sighs and lays back down.

“I guess I owe him after this.”

“Um, guys?”

Hunk’s voice trembles, just the tiniest bit.

“How long do you think it’ll take him to wake up? He’s not looking too good.”

The others snap up, and sure enough, Lance is looking more pallid, and his breathing has become labored.

“When I saw him, he looked really sick,” Keith says, “but it was all in our heads, so…”

“He got hurt when he was talking with me. And then it turns out I hit him in the head. Something’s not right here. Not everything was just in our minds,” Shiro murmurs, gritting his teeth.

“First things first – we get out of this cell.”

 

For the second time ever, Lance ends up inside a healing pod again, dead asleep. Hunk seems to be waiting outside in a daze, and to Keith’s surprise, for all of Pidge’s teasing, she’s also anxiously waiting. This isn’t like before, where all they had to do was wait long enough.

Lance just won’t wake up. All this pod is doing is keeping him comfortably asleep, instead of slowly dying and growing more and more pale the longer he’s unconscious. Keith turns to Shiro, who’s just blankly staring at the pod, looking more tired than anything else.

“Guys, you all need to rest. C’mon, let’s all go to bed,” he orders, but at this point it’s more like he’s saying it for himself rather than the others.

Hunk shuffles around at the sound of Shiro’s voice, but his expression is clearly reluctant, gaze trained at the ground.

“Sorry Shiro, I know we should rest, but… That’s my best friend, you know?”

Pidge takes off her glasses and cleans them absentmindedly, while keeping track of the conversation, ready to jump to Hunk’s defense if he needs it.

“Then let’s all at least get some blankets and pillows in here, alright?” Shiro says.

She drops her glasses into her lap, and quickly hides her gaffe by playing it off as a mistake, placing them back over her face.

“Really?! I’ll go grab some blankets and stuff then!”

Hunk rushes off, and Pidge groans as she crawls up to her feet. Shiro is staring at Lance’s pod with his arms folded, a hard look in his eyes. Keith is still standing by him, and the man blinks and smiles at Keith.

“Sorry, I left you hanging huh? You wanna grab your blankets and stuff too?”

“Yeah. Do you want me to grab your stuff too?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Gotcha.”

“Wait, Keith.”

Shiro smile softens a little, his head tilting to fondly look at Keith.

“Thank you very much for everything you’ve ever done. You’ve never let me down, Keith.”

Keith’s jaw goes slack, and Pidge smothers her giggles. She presses her palm to her mouth harder as Keith’s face goes red and blotchy.

“Wh-what’s this all about?”

“Lance told me you’d always have my back, and that’s true. I just realized I never properly thanked you for that.”

“That… You don’t need to thank me for something like that,” Keith sighs, but he can’t suppress a giddy grin as he rushes out. With that, Pidge ambles over to Shiro’s side. She’s curious about something, but while physically Shiro’s the strongest out of them all, mentally and socially she might be able to get some answers out of him.

“Pidge? Are you gonna sleep in your room?”

“Uh, no. I need to make sure he’ll be okay. If Lance dies, who will do stupid stuff with me?”

“Pidge, that’s a little…”

“He’s can’t die.” Pidge snaps erratically, surprising even herself. She purses her lips as she tries to get herself back on track.

“Why are you sleeping over, Shiro? All of us just sort of waited while he was in a pod last time. I mean, granted, we’re a bit more freaked out this time, but…”

She fidgets and decides that the most direct approach is the best.

“To be honest, I thought you didn’t care much for Lance.”

Shiro’s eyes widen, and he stares down at Pidge with shock painted all over his face.

“Why do you think-!”

“You ignore him, Shiro.”

Shiro goes silent, and Pidge awkwardly fumbles over her thoughts and words. This was a bad idea. Interpersonal relations are not her strong point, but here she is, trying to strong arm Shiro of all in people into what might as well be a team-diplomacy failure.

“I mean, all of us just kinda gloss over what he says a stuff too, but… did you really not know about Lance’s shooting scores?”

“What do you mean?”

Pidge might be embarrassing Lance by saying this to Shiro, but at the same time how does Shiro not know about Lance’s shooting?

“Lance’s piloting is uhhh… yeah, and his grades are really good, but not super amazing, you know?”

She glances back up at Shiro, pressing a finger to her lips thoughtfully. The man looks curious enough; he’s definitely confused by the current conversation if his squinted eyes are anything to go by.

“Guess. How do you think Lance managed to get promoted to fighter-class once Keith got expelled? After all, he only had good grades and sub-par piloting skills.”

Shiro’s eyes shift from side to side as he thinks, then promptly freeze, all in the span of a second.

“No.”

“Keith’s sim-scores were the one to beat for pilots, and my grades were what every support student wanted, but no one’s ever beaten Lance at the shooting range.”

Shiro scoffs and his hands wave about, as if he can somehow express as much of his disbelief in the movement.

“Those guns are all _relics_ , and don’t get me started on those faded targets! Low visibility and they still expected perfect shots-!”

“Iverson might’ve hated Lance, but Lance was definitely the shooting instructors’ pet. The army tried to get him a couple times, but he always skedaddled everytime those recruiters came sniffing around.”

“B-but when we were getting Slav… You said you never heard Lance call himself the team sharpshooter.”

“I’ve never. Actually, his nickname back on the base was a bit… ah. It was really bad when it somehow leaked that he was bi.”

“What?”

“Like, one of his nicknames was the ‘Magic Bullet’.”

Shiro pauses, taking a second to understand, when his face flushes and he gnaws on the fleshy part of his thumb.

“That’s creative, but… really cruel.”

“Mmn, yeah. Seriously though, you’ve never noticed the stuff he pulls off during training and shit?” Pidge presses, realizing just how hard she’s pushing this whole thing. God, why is defending Lance so hard? She might never be able to look Shiro in the eye ever again by the time this awkwardness is done.

She groans inwardly, glancing up at Lance resting in a pod.

What’s she doing?

She better defend Lance right now. He took the fall for them always at the Garrison – hell he even scrounged change out of fountains with her. Lance deserves at least this much from her. Maybe she could’ve timed things a bit better, but she’s in for it now and she’s not backing off.

“I guess maybe it’s not as flashy when a guy can keep taking down sentries one by one like clockwork, but he takes them down like _clockwork_ , Shiro! It’s-!”

“He’s consistent,” Shiro murmurs. “He’s consistent. No matter what happens, he’s always shooting at the same, high accuracy as always. It’s not perfect, but it’s always consistent.”

Pidge nods frantically, and Shiro blinks at the pod. Lance really is always shooting down the sentries one by one, and almost never failing them when it comes to sniping. He still misses shots, but it’s always within a certain percentage.

Shiro just got so used to it that he didn’t see it as anything special, but Lance’s shooting is so regular that it’s the farthest thing from normal. The boy can always shoot like an Olympian, and never slip up.

How does he even do that?

“Lance knows us all really well, doesn’t he?” Shiro asks Pidge after a long silence has passed, punctuated only with faint beeps from the healing pod as Lance’s body is scanned.

“Yeah.”

The conversation fizzles out, and the two force out gritted smiles as Hunk and Keith come back, arms full of blankets and pillows.

 

“You think they’ve given up by now?” Lance asks his twin.

“Probably not, but they should,” the boy states, blue eyes twinkling. Lance scoffs and folds his arms.

“Hey, hey; less angst, please? It’s not cool with the ladies.”

“Or the dudes,” Sparkling-Eyed Lance reminds, “Also, are you seriously trying to be all normal right now? I’m _in my head right now_. I can be as mopey as I fucking want.”

Lance scowls and shifts away from the other boy.

“I know. I know I shouldn’t be feeling guilty that they’re spending so much time trying to save, while I’m here hoping they just let me die. It’s not right.”

“But I still feel that way though,” Lance replies, stars shining in his eyes. “If I’m alive I’ll just be a fuck-up, and if I die I’m just a selfish asshole. If either option is suffering, I might as well pick dying, right? Stop bothering everyone, and I can finally just chill.”

“C’mon, why’re you saying that?” Lance says, seething. “It’s really tiring always having to listen to myself talk like this in my head, and plus now I have to _see_ myself too? That’s just annoying.”

The Lance with the beautiful eyes is splayed out next to Lance, and just the sight of the doppelganger’s body makes him wince. Thin, spindly limbs that writhe like spider legs, a face pitted with marks and imperfections, a stomach that spills over grotesquely, and thin, broken hair.

Lance shudders and looks away from himself, an irrational anger leaking out all of a sudden in spurts.

“I’m tired,” he mutters to himself.

“I _seriously_ need to hurry up and die– listening to myself with nothing to do is actual _torture_ ,” Lance drawls, rolling onto his stomach. “C’mon! It’s two birds with one stone! Voltron doesn’t have to deal with our bullshit anymore, and we can finally rest!”

Lance angrily waves a toothpick thin arm at Lance and Lance sighs again.

He’s not wrong. Living _is_ tiring. He feels like he’s been tired for years, and the exhaustion has always just been hiding in the back of his mind, setting goalpost after goalpost and never letting him catch a break.

“Fuck, it was annoying when people found out that I was bi,” Lance brings up randomly. Yeah, that’s probably a big reason why he’s tired. He’s not religious, but if he ends up in Hell, maybe there’ll be some other cute, not-straight guys there. Yeah, definite plus to dying.

“Ohhhhhh yeah, that Sunday school pastor was really intense about that sorta stuff huh? Well, not like you could’ve caught a break in the Garrison either. Who exactly outed you again?”

Lance laughs and rolls over to face the doppelganger again. It’s always like this. He gets tired of listening to himself, but at the same time, having someone so understanding is so nice.

“Hunk. Bless his soul, but I learned the hard way that you gotta tell Hunk when something’s a secret.”

The two break into quiet laughter.

 

“–in short, the spell acted like a biological computer virus,” Coran states proudly, scrolling through the results that he’s painstakingly gone through line by line to help Lance.

“Um, isn’t a virus a virus?” Hunk asks. “Like, a computer virus and a biological virus are pretty different.”

“Protein folding,” Pidge chimes in, and Hunk let’s out a noise of realization.

“Ohhhhh, ok. So that’s what you mean! Thanks!”

“No prob.”

Keith and Shiro stare at the two in confusion, and Shiro holds up a palm.

“Sorry, a little more? We can’t make connections like that on the fly.”

“DNA is basically code on how to make a person, right? Soooo, if you tweaked the DNA to keep making a broken part, then technically you’ve created a bug in the DNA that’ll keep spreading and possibly become worse and worse everytime a cell divides.”

Keith stiffens, running a thumb over the gem of his dagger.

“Genetic… modification? We were all _genetically modified_?”

“No, no!” Hunks exclaims. “That was just a cool example!”

“How about this for some clarification?” Coran says. “The spell introduced a poison into your system that encouraged your own body to keep producing that poison. Namely a toxin that could psychologically weaken you.”

“So think surface level genetic modification. Sure, our RNA or our DNA was damaged, but a few cell cycles later without that poison we were back to normal,” Pidge explains, all while Hunk nods in the back.

Shiro exhales softly and rubs the bridge of his nose. These two really are a cut above the rest, able to make logical jumps that they can’t follow as easily.

Hunk suddenly gasps, a thought making his chest clench. He stares blankly at the smooth white floors.

“A-Alright, what now? Can we get the poison out? How fast? How’d Lance get it out of our systems in the first place?”

“Ah yes, that’s the beauty of Galran magic! It huddles in the space between science and the metaphysical!” Coran exclaims, brandishing his data pad for all to see. Pidge gets a glance and her face pales. She looks up at Hunk, suddenly aware of why he’s so agitated.

“Our Blue-boy here psychologically shifted the poison into his own system! It’s really a marvel of energy manipulation, and to think he was doing it subconsciously no less-!”

“No, that’s just how Lance is!”

“No, it’s because he’s Lance!”

Pidge and Hunk both choke, their throats feeling raw from suddenly shouting. There’s an inkling of horror, and Hunk launches into a jumbled mess of words.

“No, no, you don’t get it! Lance just hates seeing people sad! I mean, I hate seeing people sad too, but he _reallllly_ hates it! When he sees someone sad he just wants to help! So now he’s just been alone with a buncha that poison in his body! It’s already been three days! He’s probably so sad right now!”

The slow horror sets in as they each remember their own experiences. What would it be like, to multiple that by five times? What it be like to have to just stew in that misery for so long, for days straight.

“Coran,” Shiro croaks, his shoulders yanked up close to his earlobes, “how fast can we get the poison out?”

“No worries, I’ve already begun the process. He should be out soon, hence why I called of you here to explain.”

Hunk’s off like a shot, and Shiro swears it’s the fastest he’s ever seen the boy, or anyone really, move. The pod beeps, and right as Lance tumbles forward, Hunk skids to a stop and catches the boy before Lance can smash his face into the floor. Hunk’s arms barely weigh down under Lance’s body, but he still takes time to adjust Lance more comfortably in his arms.

 

Waking up this time is interesting. There’s less of the fog in his head, and he seems lucid enough. The last he felt like he was drunk. Today he’s just sober and tired. Like a healing hangover.

“Lance-buddy, dude, you okay?”

“Mn, yeamph,” he babbles, trying his hardest to make his limbs move like normal again. He tries wiggling them, and damn, now they’re really twitching like spider limbs. Hunk’s eyes widen at the spasms, and he hugs Lance harder.

“Shit, you sure you’re okay?”

“Wha… Yeah, I’m okay,” he mutters, deciding to focus on words for now. “Just felt like a really long dream.”

“A nightmare?!”

“Nooo, no, no,” Lance says soothingly, “Nooooooooo, just a bad dream. Like, not a nightmare, but still kinda iffy?”

Hunk doesn’t seem convinced, but he nods and proceeds to nearly crush Lance’s ribs.

“Yeah, it was just a dream! Nothing else!”

“Cool,” Lance mutters. He taps at Hunk’s arms and shakily wobbles on two legs like fucking Bambi. The others come rush over, eyes wide.

“Want the good news or the bad news?” Pidge says, her eyes glinting but mouth crooked as she tries to show a bit of humor. Lance grins, appreciating the strong effort.

“Bad.”

“Shiro knows your Garrison nickname now.”

“I go into a coma for _less than a week_ , and you spill one of my embarrassing secrets?!” Lance gasps with a face of mock horror, daintily pressing a hand to his chest as if he’s scandalized. Lance actually does feel super embarrassed, and he’s a little peeved, but he’s not gonna be all bitchy to Pidge right after falling out of pod over his own insecurities.

“Okay, okay; the good?”

“You saved our asses and now that you’re finally awake we can finally eat the feast that Hunk’s been slowly cooking since yesterday.”

Lance’s jaw drops, and he snaps towards Hunk, his mouth already watering. Before he can even talk, Hunk’s arms shoot up to make a big old “X”.

“Not yet! Gimme an hour!”

“Bummer.”

“You can’t rush food!”

Lance smiles, and in return the two bump fists.

“I’m gonna take a nap first then. Gotta change out of these tighty-whities after all, right?”

“Sure.”

Hunk ambles off to the kitchen, and Pidge waits at the hall, ready to walk Lance back to his room.

“I’m… gonna go then,” Lance says awkwardly to Keith and Shiro, before heading out.

“What was his nickname?” Keith asks once the door closes with a hiss.

“It’s bad; I don’t think he wants people to know. Did you know that Lance had great shooting scores?”

Keith raises an eyebrow.

“I heard there was someone a year or two younger with practically perfect scores, but it can’t be Lance.”

“What? Why?”

“That shooter was bi, and I’ve only ever seen Lance flirt with girls. Plus, he’s kinda messy with piloting sometimes. Lance is good, but people were really talking about how amazing this other guy was.”

Shiro takes a moment to filter what he’s just heard. He definitely needs to give Keith a _tiiiiiny_ lesson on stereotypes.

“Er, Keith? Just because someone is bi doesn’t mean you’re going to see a fifty-fifty split. People each have their own preferences; a person could prefer girls a bit more and still be attracted to both, and vice versa.”

“Oh. You’re right,” Keith admits sheepishly. “But why are you so sure that it’s Lance?”

“Pidge confirmed it with me. I think it’s because she feels like we’ve been underutilizing Lance’s specialty.”

Keith frowns, wracking his brain and his memories for anything to support that claim. After all, Lance shoots at sentries and a couple come through sometimes but not many. Every time there’s a whole bunch, Lance just shoots at them, missing a few every now and then. Nothing flashy. Same whenever he teams up with Hunk to provide cover fire. There’s always a few stragglers.

That’s when it all clicks.

Sometimes they _only_ send Lance to cover the rear while the rest of the team moves in. They invade ships and bases, and at the entrance is just Lance, shooting down sentries.

On a fucking base.

Nevermind stragglers. How is Lance even still _alive_ after some of those missions? Keith hardly thinks about the rearguard as he dives into the fray, but even when he was still completely with the Blades, they only ever had one-person rearguards during covert operations. Also, when Hunk is cutting through swathes of sentries with his gun, he can’t hit every single bot, but how come only a handful survive, instead of a quarter? Lance is somehow simultaneously watching where Hunk’s lasers hit while also targeting any stragglers that slip through. He can _see_ which sentries Hunk takes down and react near-instantaneously.

Keith’s eyes widen as he holds his chin. Shiro watches as realization spreads over Keith’s face, wondering if he had a similar expression of shock as he talked with Pidge. If anything, Keith looks even more stunned. Was Lance’s reputation that good?

“Crap, I totally forgot. I need to go ask Lance something. See you later Shiro!”

“Yeah, see you!”

Keith sprints off, and Shiro adds his failure to know about Lance’s sharpshooting to his growing list of faults as a leader.

 

He feels tired. He’d been out for a day, but exhaustion is just piling up in his bones, turning them into lead as he plods towards his room. Pidge is nearby, and when she insisted on walking all the way, Lance laughed said he was pretty sure he could handle a couple more yards on his own.

It’s definitely going to take some time to recover from the past day and everything. When he walked past the hangar, he thought about dashing in for a second and opening, before snapping at himself for being so stupid. His head is just filled with lots of little things like that, clogging his brain and making his emotions a muddled mess of conflicting elements squished together.

Nothing to do but suck it all up and hope he stops feeling like dying soon.

He scowls, his chest heavy with weakness as his head is annoyed with himself for being weighed down just by some mind tricks.

“Lance! Wait a sec!”

He turns around, and Keith nearly barrels into the door ahead of him, panting. He splays a hand against the doorway to catch his breath, glancing up at the other boy. Lance is staring back, confusion on his face, as well as… panic? Unease?

“The stuff you said while we were poisoned – thanks,” he spits out, breaking their eye contact. He doesn’t know if he’s blushing right now or just wiped from sprinting down the halls, but Lance laughs, holding his stomach as peals of laughter slip from his mouth.

“You’re an idiot, Mullet-head!” he shoots off, before diving inside with a yelp, barely dodging Keith’s half-hearted swing at his shoulder.

The door slides shut, and it takes Lance mustering up some energy from deep within his reserves to force himself to change first before collapsing onto his bed. As he carefully rolls down the pod suit, he feels how weak and flabby his body is, even after fighting and training for so long. It sets off another surge of disgust that rolls around in his brain, and Lance forces himself to quickly pull on a random shirt and pair of shorts. He nearly trips over a bundle of wires diving under the covers.

Lance turns under the thin-but-heavy blanket, trying to let its weight calm his mind. These feelings aren’t anything new, it’s just been awhile since he’s had to deal with them like this. Irritation that comes and goes at the flip of a switch, hating himself, holding himself to impossible standards, wondering eveytime that someone talks to him if he’s messed up somehow since he can’t trust his own thoughts and memories – he knows that it’s all irrational and that it’s in his head, but it’s _because_ it’s in his head that he can’t ignore things like this so easily.

Fabric rustles as he curls in his body, feeling sluggish and cold. The blanket puckers and coils like a seashell, spiraling out from the center of his body where the fabric is at it’s heaviest, bunched over his core.

He knows that if he waits long enough, it’ll go away, but waiting is always hell. His mind is constantly peppered with strange little urges to commit suicide, emotions go haywire, and it feels like even his body is just shutting down.

Maybe suppressing everything until it sorts itself out isn’t the healthiest way to cope, but out here it’s the most practical way to do it. Lance can still function, it’ll just be harder. That’s how he’s always dealt with bad days in space.

He groans softly and tenses his body, teeth gritted. He thought he was okay. It had been awhile since his brain had been so shot, and now it feels like a new wave has hit him; a relapse of bad emotions.

…He’s tired.

His body is tired. Living is tiring right now.

The tension in his limbs thaws at a painfully slow pace, but finally, _finally_ , enough melts away to let him sleep.

“Wake up, sleepyhead!” Pidge snaps, flicking him in the face. “Hunk’s feast is done.”

Lance’s eyes snap open and he jerks his body up, eyes wide as Pidge laughs and pokes at him. Rather, it’s more as if he’s watching her poke him. His vision is wavering and his senses are dulled. He grasps at his head, his magic trick for stopping the dissociation.

“I’m up, I’m up!” he screeches, laughing as Pidge tries to go for his ribs.

… He’s tired.

 

Lance saunters over and bows at a pretty alien lady with what looks like sentient flowers growing from her scalp. Her face flushes purple and she rushes back into the crowds of cheering partiers. The smirk on his face cracks, but he pushes it down and runs over to catch up with the others, who are all socializing at their own pace.

Or, he tries to, but it doesn’t feel right. Pidge is animatedly talking about something with one of the aliens, Shiro, Keith and a few Blades are deep in discussion with some soldiers, Allura is chatting with the Queen, and Hunk is helping out at the outdoor cooking space where the other chefs go from being star-struck by Hunk’s Paladin status to being star-struck by his divine cooking skills.

Er, yeah. Lance is better off mingling here.

Or is that just the paranoia talking? Each time Coran checks him for any sign of the spell or poison, he says Lance’s system is clear. The aftermath stubbornly lingers though, and even when Lance can feel the irrationality creeping up on him, he doesn’t have the energy to fight it.

He’s tired.

Even as flower petals fall from the sky, food and drink flow freely, and singing and cheery voices echo all around him, Lance just feels exhausted. Maybe even a little annoyed by the noise, and that scares him the most.

He loves feasts, he _loves_ parties, and all it’s making him feel right now is pissed off. Wires inside him wind tight as he tries to plan every single social interaction, his plan veering off course every time someone reacts in an unexpected way.

“Wah! Sorry!”

“Sorry, Mr. Paladin!”

He’s jolted out of his empty-headed daze as two kids push off his legs. Well, at least he hopes they’re just kids. You can never tell with alien biology.

Kids are honest. He can deal with kids.

“Nah, it’s fine! You two alright?”

The kid with blue, multi-petaled flowers growing from their scalp nods, the blossoms swaying in the breeze. The other one has cream-colored flowers with tan centers, but their eyes are a gorgeous shade of green. They smile and nods as well.

“We’re okay!”

“That’s good. Betcha you guys have a great story to tell the others, right? You got to talk with a Paladin!”

“We saw the Red Lion! It was so cool!”

“All those moves were amazing!”

Lance startles, and he struggles to pull on his usual cheeriness on in time before the kids notice. Bless kids for thinking how everything’s cool. He nearly flew straight into a Galran death-beam today. It’s as if one of the locks that keeps him tense falls off, and he’s struck with the urge to stab himself while recalling that memory of doing something so stupid. At the same time, the ground looks like the perfect place to curl up on under the warm sun.

“Awwww, you guys are great! Quick question, but where’s the best place to nap here?”

The two throw glances at each other, before breaking out into big grins.

“Follow us!”

“Follow us!”

They each grab a hand and pulls him away into the nearby woods.

 

The Blade grumbles as he treks through the plants and trees, tail angrily swaying from side to side. One of the Paladins is missing, so of course the present Blades need to also go looking around for a lost _child_ of all things. The leader, Shiro, is their only point of contact with Voltron right now. Keith is canvassing the area with the Blades this time. He can’t help but pity the boy sometimes. Right now, it feels as if he’s being forced to choose one side or the other, when he really doesn’t have to. It’s his own thoughts that are making this a lot more complicated than necessary.

Children though. With the exception of the Black Paladin, they’re all children.

On top of that, if it wasn’t the Blue Paladin that had gone missing, he would’ve snuck back the first chance he got. The Blue and Yellow Paladin always try to give credit to the Blades, and encourage support for them, even though they’re Galra. On top of that, the Blue is most vocal about it as well, whereas sometimes the Yellow will grow timid.

The Blades all do absentmindedly bring up the Blue and Yellow Paladins during their rare free time. They aren’t doing this for glory, and they know full well that when the next mission rolls around they’ll be lost to history, but there’s something undeniably warm about getting that sliver of outside support. Well, maybe one of them will bring it up, before the others all chide said Blade for being too sentimental.

They like to take turns being sentimental.

A tree branch slaps the Blade in the face and he growls, smacking it out of the way.

On the other hand, what kind of hero just runs off into the woods and gets lost?

“Children – all of them!” he mutters under his breath, before catching himself.

In a small circle where the ground has been pounded flat, the tree stands. It’s not the tallest one around, but the spread of its canopy is wide and lush, dripping with verdant green leaves. Fruits and pale flowers are scattered throughout it’s branches, letting just the right amount of sunlight through.

The shadows are like wavering black lace over the bodies of the Paladin and the two children. The Blue Paladin has stripped off his chest-plate and helmet, and he must have a way with kids if the two are just using his stomach and arm like a pillow. The air is so warm and bright that it must be glittering like gold, and suddenly the Blade can’t be angry at all about the Blue Paladin deciding to take a nap.

Is there something in the tree’s pollen? His tail is no longer twitching anxiously, and instead it lazily sways back and forth, almost brushing the ground.

“Found the Paladin,” he says into his comm, biting back a yawn in the process.

“Good job, Izek. Bring him back,” Kolivan orders. Izek watches Lance’s chest softly rise and fall under gold and shadow lace.

“I don’t want to wake up the children though.”

“Children?”

Izek stops listening to his comm and saunters, dropping down on all fours to observe the scene before him. He’s not quite sure how humans age, but this one definitely looks youthful.

He doesn’t have anything against child soldiers, but at the same time – they’re children.

“Paladin,” he calls softly, shaking the boy’s shoulder. The boy doesn’t stir. Frowning, he starts to shake harder. The flowers on the heads of the children are jostled about and suddenly the two are screaming.

“Galra!”

“Noooooo!”

Izek groans and barely has time to think about what to do when the Paladin gasps and shoots straight up, hands clawing in the air as his Bayard shifts into a deadly gun. His blue eyes are wide and owlish, and Izek prepares himself for the initial hostility, but it doesn’t come. The Paladin wakes up, and his eyes merely go from fear to recognition.

“You two, stop it! He’s a Blade!”

The children choke off their sobs, eyes wide. The Paladin reassures and hugs them both, then gestures towards Izek.

“C’mon, apologize.”

They each glance at each other guiltily, and Izek swears the flowers on their heads slightly wilt as they apologize.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he murmurs back, before turning back to the Blue Paladin.

“You team is looking for you. We need to head back.”

The Paladin’s face pales, instead of becoming that flushed and embarrassed expression Izek thought the flirty young man would make. He scrambles to put his chest-plate back on then quickly starts speaking into his helmet at a million words per minute.

Rather than put it on, he keeps it clutched between his hands, his face pallid and grimacing. The two children lead the way back as he stares down at his helmet.

“Hey, were they angry?” he asks Izek as they push through some golden and green shrubs.

“No. Just worried.”

“Ah, that’s not good either. That means they’ll be angry-worried. In my opinion that’s sometimes worse than just being plain ol’ pissed.”

“I don’t recall them relieving themselves.”

“It’s a figure of speech. No worries.”

Izek’s tail perks up, twitching back and forth. The Blue Paladin seems a little anxious today, especially for a post-battle celebration. He’s also speaking so freely and amicably that Izek can’t help but be intrigued.

“You looked comfortable back there. Maybe I should’ve stolen a nap too.”

“You should’ve! It’s suuuuper comfy! Really warm too!”

There’s a strain of awkwardness, but it’s nothing big. The words they’re speaking right now can overpower that.

“You humans must need quite a bit of sleep, it seems.”

At that the Paladin stiffens.

“Yeah, we do, but it’s mainly just me who’s been really tired lately.”

“Mental exhaustion?”

 

The words put Lance into another pause, and another flurry of panic as he realizes how obvious his weakness must be right now. Bad.

“Maybe.”

“I bet each of you have a different way of coping.”

Lance tilts his head, taking a second to check on the kids in front.

“Oh? How do the Blades cope?”

Izek shrugs.

“Various hobbies. Sex.”

A bright red flush seeps into Lance’s tan skin, and he sighs and straightens his back.

“Yeah, sounds reasonable. You guys just… with each other?”

“Who else?”

“Doesn’t that get awkward?”

“We are a bigger organization that your team. Within a smaller group like that of Voltron, sex would definitely not be a form of viable emotional control.”

“Forming Voltron would be a nightmare if we knew who was sleeping with who,” Lance groans.

“Hm, well, if you’re in need of some temporary intimacy, then I wouldn’t mind. Name’s Izek.”

Lance’s jaw drops right as Izek decides that the moment he gets back onto the ship he’s going to open an airlock and let himself get sucked out.

“Uh, that’s um… I’ll keep it in mind,” the Paladin replies meekly. “I’m Lance.”

“Well, I’m sure there are other Blades that wouldn’t mind spending a night or two with you, Paladin.”

Why is saying this? Why is he saying this to a _Paladin_ no less? The others are going to kill him if they ever find out he let some of their attractions spill like that, and again he wonders why his head and his mouth can’t work together sometimes. He glances over at Lance and balks.

Is it possible for humans to sweat blood? The boy’s face is so red right now that even the sunset can’t rival it.

“Huh? Me?”

“Your friend the Yellow Paladin as well.”

Zalalabel’s going to string him up by his entrails.

“Wh-what?”

“Listen to yourself. Listen to how naturally you talk with a rebel who’s the same race as members of the Empire enslaving the universe.”

Lance scowls and bares his teeth.

“Why would I act any different? Sure, you all are Galra, but you’re still out here risking your lives and everything!”

Izek’s only response is a coy smile, and Lance merely sighs again and glances forward, praying the kids haven’t heard any of their sex talk.

“Damn, this day just got really long,” he mutters. He tries to discreetly peek at Izek, since these space bodysuits don’t leave a lot to the imagination sometimes. The tail is already an interesting element, and his entire body seems lean and toned, full of efficient muscle. He’s also got _great_ hips.

 _Definitely sexy_ , Lance realizes in mortification.

“Mmn, I dunno. I don’t have a lot going on, so you guys would probably be a little disappointed. I’m mostly just limbs flying everywhere.”

“You’re rather beautiful though, in both face and figure.”

Can Izek just kill himself twice in one day? Maybe he’ll ask Kolivan to beat him up first then ask Zalalabel to give him an intestine noose.

 _What is he saying?_ The Blue Paladin, no, Lance is dangerous. Talking with him naturally makes the secrets and feelings overflow. Izek checks on the Paladin again and now he’s positive that humans can sweat blood. The boy’s face looks too red to be healthy.

“You guys are pretty uh… frank about all of this, huh?”

“I suppose so.”

“Oh my god,” Lance mumbles under his breath. Still, as they drag their feet back, a faint smile crawls over his lips. Talking like this with a stranger though. It’s not bad. He can feel the pressure be dragged off his chest by just a little.

“Alright, what other hobbies do you guys have besides just being awkward and sleeping with each other?”

Izek hums and shrugs, his tail arcing back and forth.

“Drawing, writing, training, researching – mainly training let’s be honest.”

Agitation makes his tail shiver and it arcs a bit too widely, slapping into the back of Lance’s calves. The impact blows out his knees and Lance yelps as he pitches forward, right as Izek scrambles forwards to catch him. His arms manage to wrap around the Paladin’s waist and chest just in time. Izek hastily pulls Lance upright and releases, but he stares at the boy with some concern.

“Oh crap, thanks.”

“No, that was all my fault. Paladin, you feel thin.”

Lance scowls and sheepishly holds his head. The dissociation has crept back, and it takes him a moment to get back into his own body.

“I got poisoned by Druidic magic about a month ago. Even though my body is supposedly clear of the poison, I think I’m still suffering from the after effects.”

“Do the other Paladins know?”

“Hm, maybe Coran is suspicious, but I don’t really wanna worry them all over something that can’t be helped.”

Izek stares at Lance, then stalks forward.

Children, the whole lot of them!

“Izek? Um, Mr. Izek? Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong! Honestly, if nothing else that leader of yours-!”

“Shiro hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Lance’s voice is cold and hard, and the tone makes even the children pause and look back, eyes wide. This Blade seems really cool, but even he can tell when his teammates are getting snubbed. Izek’s tail is sticking up, intrigued, or maybe wary.

“Shiro hasn’t done anything wrong, and neither have any of the other Paladins, okay? Everyone is trying their best, in their own way, fighting their own demons! You don’t have any right to start talking bad when you barely know them!”

“Don’t you think you deserve some of the kindness that you give to everyone else so freely?!”

Izek’s temper is flaring, and again terror clenches in his gut as his emotions run amok again. The Blue Paladin is dangerous to them all. Something about the boy makes them vulnerable – makes them unable to be the cold, calculating Blades that they need to be. He’s indulged himself for too long; he needs to leave and run away before he slips up, but how can he leave the boy like this?

“I’ll head back first. I remember the way, so you just follow the children back.”

Lance’s eyes widen, but he clenches his fists and nods.

“I’m sorry for getting angry. I’ll stop delaying you. It was nice talking with you, Izek.”

Izek’s tail drops to the ground dejectedly. He wants to stay and talk more. Wants to see more of that blood-sweating face with its glinting eyes and varying smiles.

It’s all poison though.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Paladin,” he replies softly. “I was the one who started it, no? I’m not angry with you at all. There’s just something I need to do.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m not angry,” Izek repeats, unsure of how to convince this boy of otherwise. He turns and runs, leaving behind an awestruck Lance who can only gape as Izek just… vanishes.

 

Shiro sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. He’s just been… he feels like he’s been doing nothing but let down Lance the entire time. Especially after this whole fiasco.

“Lance, I didn’t get the chance-! Lance?”

He frowns, then walks over to where Lance is sitting, balanced on the ledge as he looks outside. Except, as Shiro comes closer, he… isn’t. His gaze seems to be blankly staring into the glass, unwavering and empty.

“Lance, you okay?”

The boy jolts, then looks at Shiro, his gaze hanging just a second too long before he holds his head with a small groan.

“Lance, are you okay?! Do I need to call Coran, or-!”

“No, I’m fine, seriously Shiro! Wait, why’re you awake?”

At that, Shiro has to frown and take a seat next to the boy.

“I should be asking you that, young man.”

Lance breaks into small giggles.

“Damn, you sound _so_ much like a dad right now!” he cackles, making Shiro blush.

“Right, right. Anyways, where did you run off to today? We just looked up and you were gone.”

Lance looks away and laughs nervously.

“Ohhhhh, that. I wanted to take a nap, and so these two adorable kids showed me the _best_ napping spot _ever_. Phylla’s parents weave cloth, and Chloro’s parents are tailors. That’s how the two became best friends. Isn’t that adorable?”

“You mean the two kids that led you back?”

“Yea.”

“Aren’t you hungry then? You must’ve not eaten much at the banquet.”

“What? No, I ate plenty!”

“Like…?”

“The stuffed tube roots, and the steamed leaf wraps!”

“And…?”

“Uh…”

Lance grinds his teeth in frustration, trying to think up a good fib. He should’ve paid more attention to the food. Shiro’s caught him off guard, no fair. As he thinks, Shiro takes another look at Lance. The clothes definitely do seem to hang off of Lance more. The boy was lanky before, but he was gaining muscle now, so Shiro shifted his attention away and now… Lance is lanky again. Maybe even a bit bony.

Shiro thought that Lance was okay. Out of everyone in the team, Lance seemed the most _okay_. Compared to Keith’s abandonment issues, Hunk’s neurotic tendencies, Pidge’s grief, Allura’s seriousness, and Coran’s… _Coran_ , Lance felt like the one Shiro could leave to his own devices without anything horribly imploding.

And now of course he’s paying the consequences.

“Shiro, are you alright?”

“I’m sorry, Lance. One of the Blades, he told me that I needed to pay more attention to you. He said that you seemed like you needed some help.”

Lance groans and folds his arms.

“Dammit, Izek! Sorry, Shiro. Usually I get over this stuff pretty fast, but this time it’s been a bit stubborn!”

“What do you mean, ‘get over’?”

“It’s nothing crazy, but sometimes I just get these bad moods. I think being poisoned triggered one, so I’ve just been waiting it out. I’ll be back in action soon enough, so don’t worry about Voltron and everything.”

Shiro purses his lips and shakes his head.

“No, Lance. It’s just… don’t you need help?”

“Nah, I told ya, I just gotta wait it out,” he replies with a charming smile.

He’s lying. Shiro knows Lance is lying because he lies too. He lies and pretends he’s okay even though every single day feels like a high-strung trip of nerves and paranoia. He thinks he’s pretty good at it, and the fact that Lance is also so good at it makes Shiro’s heart clench.

How long? Lance said the poison triggered it, no? It’s been two weeks, almost three. He’s been suffering for almost three weeks?

“I’m sorry, Lance, I really should’ve noticed sooner. You’re not okay, are you? Is there anything I can do to help? As leader, I need to support you all equally, and I’ve let you down.”

“Shiro, you’re allowed to make mistakes, you know?”

Shiro frowns, and his expression is mirrored by Lance.

“Sure, yeah, you’re older than us all, but you’re also only twenty-five, right? I’ve got cousins the same age as you that are starting college for the first time. You’re super cool and awesome, but I’m not expecting you to be this perfect idol-hero. You’re a person, and you’ve been my hero ever since I was in the Garrison. You’re a badass, Shiro!” Lance laughs.

Before Shiro can respond, Lance keeps talking.

“It’s fine Shiro, it’s completely fine! As leader of Voltron, you’ve been doing an awesome job! You’ve gone on missions, you’ve planned some genius attacks, you’re always helping everyone out – There’s no one else I’d rather have as our glorious hero, haha! Man, there’s a reason why you’re the most popular one out of all in the Voltron Coalition! I mean, great cheekbones, dark and mysterious backstory, general badassery – Shiro,” Lance says, suddenly cutting himself off.

“Shiro, you’re too hard on yourself, I bet. You gotta relax sometimes. You shouldn’t feel guilty over a few mistakes every now and then.”

“…So that’s why.”

“What?”

Lance represses it all, and he’s damn good at it too. It’s because he represses it all that he knows how they all feel and tries his best to make them all feel better. He’s felt and repressed all of his emotions, and to a degree, he understands all of their suffering. That’s why it feels like he knows exactly what to say to Shiro right now. It’s how he knows how to joke with Pidge and sneakily ease her away from work. It’s how he compliments Hunk’s kindness with his own warmth. It’s why he clashes with Keith so much. Keith is the one he doesn’t know how to properly deal with. Keith’s rashness and hostility are things that he hasn’t personally dealt with that much, so he merely responds in kind.

“Lance, what do _you_ need right now? Tell me, and I’ll do my best to get it for you.”

“I… I don’t need anything right now.”

“Lance, stop telling me what I need to hear right now and tell me what you need to hear right now.”

The boy grows pensive, and he fidgets, arguing back and forth with himself. He can make himself vulnerable to Shiro right now, but the man has enough on his plate. The PTSD that they _all_ know Shiro’s got won’t be helped by Lance spilling his guts. At the same time, the chance to be vulnerable is enticing, and it makes Lance’s resolve weaken.

He needs to decide. Will he sacrifice Shiro’s mental health for his own?

Lance smiles softly to himself.

Of course not.

Shiro’s been through so much. There’s no way he can do that the man. Besides, he said so himself: he’ll feel better soon on his own. Talking with Izek today helped a little, and he’ll slowly get better and better. The fact that Shiro is even worried is enough to drag up Lance and little bit more.

Wait… If he doesn’t say anything, won’t Shiro get more worried?

The unexpected twist makes Lance grapple again. He’s gotta offer something small to Shiro that the man will be able to do, but there’s no way he can spill everything or else that might be too much. What’s something small that Shiro can do right now to make himself feel better?

The emotions claw at his chest, screaming to be let out, but Lance forces it down. He forces it down. Pushes it down as far as he can. They claw back up again, and to Lance’s horror, he’s weakening. Why? He just said he didn’t want to burden, Shiro, but that plan seems less and less possible by the second.

Being around Shiro, being offered an out; it’s all making that insane urge to overshare come up again. It’s why he’s forced himself to stay quiet, since talking will only make things worse. His leg jitters and he stands up and tries to leave, but Shiro calls after him.

“Lance, you’re just a kid. You shouldn’t have to do this to yourself.”

No, Lance needs to do this, for everyone’s sake. At home, he was the one who got the brunt of it all whenever anyone’s temper flared. He’s the one who took the blame for the broken vase, and he’s the one who consoled his big sis when her asshole boyfriend dumped her. He’s the one who secretly complained about Dad with Mom and secretly complained about Mom with Dad. He’s the one who turned down a couple nights with friends to babysit the little ones when his aunt was going to job interviews, and he’s the one who laughed and listened to everything his siblings told him about school and how they were all so stressed about their grades. He’d listen to them and console them, then stay up late to study for his test tomorrow.

Lance knows his role, and its to keep the balance. He’s water, he’s fire, he’s formless and becomes what they need to keep things moving smoothly.

In the Castle though it’s so much harder for some reason though! He can’t always say the right things, and he can’t do anything useful for the team! He’s useless here and that’s what he hates the most: being useless. It bites at him as he realizes nothing he does will ever be good enough and even though he knows its his own head being irrational he still thinks it.

Stupid Shiro, offering him such a dangerous out right now.

Should… Should he take it?

To take it would be to hurt Shiro.

That’s… unacceptable.

No, nonononononononononononono that’s no good at all. Even if the man is strong, who know how the PTSD might be messing with him? He doesn’t want to make it any worse, not when he knows he’ll regret it later. Repressing it is always for the best.

He wants to stab himself in the chest and feel how the bone crunches under his arms. It’s a strong urge that suddenly invades his mind, and he scowls and tries to push it away. Where would he get a good enough knife on the ship without asking Keith, and there’s no way in hell he’ll let go of his Luxite blade. Airlock? No, that’s a bit too slow and painful.

Shiro grasps Lance’s hand.

“You’re not okay, are you, Lance?”

“I’m not a good person, Shiro,” he blurts out.

Shiro blinks and tightens his hold. Without a second thought he picks up Lance’s forgotten blanket as he pulls Lance down to ground, where they both take a seat. There, he drapes the comforter over their shoulders, forcing Lance to sit close to him. Shiro feels how cold Lance is and wraps his flesh arm around Lance, pulling the boy in.

“You’re freezing, Lance. Also, why do you think you’re not a good person?”

Lance doesn’t think he’s cold, but that arm around him is very nice. It feels like a brace, anchoring him. This kind of touch – he never thought he’d get it from anyone either than Hunk. Wanting physical touch like this is shameful.

Does this arm mean it’s okay? It’s okay to share? His mind is breaking down faster than he can rebuild his supports. He needs to hold on, but his chest hurts, and his head is scrambled. The pain is starting to become unbearable. He can feel it all shutting down instead.

“Haha, you don’t need to do this, Shiro – you don’t! This isn’t your job!”

“Actually, yes. It is. You all are part of my team.”

A harsh unease twists in Lance’s back and gut. It’s an illogical urge or annoyance, but he doesn’t know how to stop it.

“Shiro, if you ever need to leave someone behind, pick me, alright? It’s the smartest thing to do.”

Shiro’s eyes widen, and he pulls Lance into a tight, terrified embrace.

“See, that’s why I’m a bad person.”

“Wha-no, how?! How, Lance?! Why is saying that you would sacrifice yourself make you a bad person?!”

“Because even though it’d make everyone sad, I don’t care. You guys will get over it, and it’s for the better in the long run. I still don’t care if I live or die even though you guys will be sad.”

Shiro clutches Lance even tighter, as if Lance is somehow being ripped away from him, and he’s holding on for dear life.

“Lance, you… you need to live.”

“Shiro… I can’t pilot, I don’t know computers, I don’t know ships, I can’t strategize, I can’t use cool Altean tech, I can’t do recon, I can barely shoot – Shiro, I’m a liability. Look, I haven’t been hanging out with everyone lately, and they can still function perfectly. There’s no need for me.”

“Don’t say that, Lance.”

“It’s the truth, though. You can’t think of anything right now, I bet.”

Lance is right. Shiro say anything right now because he’s too busy _panicking_. How does he say that Lance is a great shot? How does he say that he’s noticed tension building the past couple weeks since Lance has withdrawn from them? How does he say that he’s sorry he never congratulated Lance and Hunk for liberating a planet all on their own? How does he say that having Lance around is almost like a salve – a constant _okay_ that Shiro can always cross off and feel a little more relaxed about afterwards?

How does he say he’s sorry he never said any of this before?

 _Because you thought he was always okay_ , the nasty voice in the back of his head sneers.

Shiro grits his teeth and stubbornly refuses to let go of Lance. He’ll be damned if he lets the anxiety and neurotic self-pity jump in now.

Lance rests his head on Shiro’s shoulder as the man hugs him. Ah, he wants to die. He wants to stab himself over and over and then fling himself out the airlock. He won’t do it, of course, but the urge is there, strange and ever present.

Red and Blue roar in his mind. Red is full of indignation, but underneath he can feel her concern. Blue swarms his mind with worry and compassion, as well as deep confusion. The two Lions are so confused. They don’t understand human minds, and they don’t get why Lance feels this way. It’s odd and illogical and makes them both angry and worried.

The two have Allura and Keith. They’ll be okay if anything were to happen.

Panic seizes Lance and he squeezes himself down until he can see Shiro’s face again.

“Shiro, Shiro, sometimes I just wanna die. I don’t mean kill myself, but just die, you know? I can’t do anything right. I make things awkward, I get people hurt whenever I screw up, and whenever I wanna help I just make things worse. Shiro, I’m really useless – I don’t deserve to be alive.”

The tears stream down his face and he breaks out into heaving sobs as he bawls and blubbers his face into a big, puffy mess. Shiro doesn’t know what to say. What _can_ he say? He can only panic and hold Lance and hope it’s doing something as the boy cries and shudders under him.

Oh-why-oh-why didn’t he say everything back then? Why didn’t he see that Lance could snipe like a pro and that he could ease the tension out of the group? Why doesn’t he ever just tell Lance that the he’s done an amazing job?

 

Lance stops as abruptly as he begins, shuddering as he forces himself to calm down. This is beyond embarrassing.

“Sorry, I’m okay now. I-I uh, I’ll be better soon. I’ll get better on my own, so don’t worry.”

“You seriously expect me to not worry after saying all of that?” Shiro asks, a bit pointedly.

“Usually I just say a buncha stupid stuff when I get these bad moods. It’s nothing crazy, haha.”

The weak, listless response only makes Shiro even more worried. He keeps an arm around Lance and tightens it. Then in a single motion he stands up, pulling up Lance with him. The blanket doesn’t even slip off their shoulders.

“That’s it, I’m not leaving you alone tonight, alright? Also, it’s cold out here, so let’s go to my room to talk a bit more. This time it’s my turn to speak, alright?”

Lance nods blankly, following Shiro back. The room opens, and Lance is struck by and a little worried by how empty it seems. Before he can even mull over the implications a bit longer, Shiro scoops him up and sets him onto the bed. Lance squawks and tries to scramble off but Shiro sits by the bed on the ground, somewhat on eye level with the boy. He smiles and tilts his head at Lance’s embarrassment.

“That’s comfier, right?”

Lance rolls over and pouts.

“Now I just feel guilty. This is your bed.”

“And you need it more right now.”

“No, we _both_ need it, so tuck in. It’ll be like when I shared the bed with my siblings.”

“If you say so.”

Shiro crawls in, and when they’re both settled, he starts talking.

And for the first time in a long time, Lance feels like maybe he’s not the worst.

Shiro’s voice is low and soothing, and Lance’s replies are soft and earnest. Like that, the two can drift off.

 

“Where are they?” Hunk asks, his voice growing increasingly high pitched.

“Calm down, they’re definitely in the Castle, we just gotta find out where,” Pidge says, checking her scan. Two blips appear, and she blinks.

“Huh.”

“Guys, I found them!” Keith calls from down the hall, gesturing for them to come over. Pidge glances at Hunk, and they both rush over.

“They’re in Shiro’s room and…”

Keith trails off as they all see what’s happened. Lance and Shiro have both shoved themselves into the small bed, and somehow for some reason, Shiro has splayed himself over Lance, despite being bigger. It looks oddly protective.

“What happened last night?” Pidge mutters, moving in with a giggle.

“Hey, don’t bother them!” Keith seethes. “Shiro was so tired he didn’t even wake up this morning! And Lance is still dead!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pidge jokes and laughs, but her expression falters when she sees Lance’s face. It looks rested and carefree.

That’s the way Lance always is, so why does it seem extra special right now, this common expression?

“Hunk, Lance’s face looks weird.”

“Wha-? No, that’s how his usual face.”

“No, something feels off though. Why does this look so weird?”

Pidge freezes and stands straight up. When was the last time she properly talked and joked with Lance?

She can’t remember.

When was the last time Lance smiled a big, dumb and goofy smile at her?

She can’t remember.

“Guys, when was the last time we hung out with Lance?”

Hunk blinks, and Keith… falters.

Pidge laughs sadly and kneels by the bed, watching the two who are fast asleep.

“When he wakes up, we have a lot of talking to do, huh?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not gonna lie, I'm actually a bit unhappy with how OOC I made Lance, but this was something super indulgent anyways, so who cares.


End file.
